Chapter 399: The Demon’s Score

"Five minutes," Grayson repeated, his deep voice dropping an octave as he reached out and took Mailah’s phone from her hand. He placed it face down on the low wooden table, out of reach. "A digital clock has no place in an affair of the heart."

Mailah opened her mouth to object, but Grayson moved with terrifying, smooth grace. Before she could utter a single word, his hand was at the back of her neck, his long fingers buried softly in her dark hair. He pulled her flush against his chest, leaning down to press his lips to hers with a quiet, hungry intensity that instantly turned her brain to mush.

It was not a gentle, timid kiss. It was the kiss of an ancient, possessive creature who had spent four agonizing weeks starving for her touch. His mouth moved against hers with heavy, deliberate warmth, claiming her breath, her thoughts, and every tiny shiver running down her spine. His free arm wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her slightly off the pillows until she was pressed completely against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

Mailah gasped into his mouth, her fingers tangling into the fabric of his black shirt. Her heart pounded like a frantic drum against her ribs. Up close, Grayson smelled like cold night rain, dark cedar, and the sweet, lingering warmth of fresh honey.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, both of them were completely out of breath. His blue eyes burned with a fierce, silver glow that made her chest ache with pure affection.

"That..." Mailah whispered, her cheeks burning bright red as she tried to catch her breath, "...was definitely longer than five minutes."

"I am a demon prince," Grayson whispered back, a dark, triumphant smirk touching his handsome lips. "I do not answer to digital timers. And my probation task log permits me to extend rewards for exceptional performance."

Mailah let out a breathless laugh, poking his chest. "You are an absolute tyrant. Come on, demon prince. Item number three awaits."

By four o’clock in the afternoon, Mailah declared that the estate pantry was missing essential human snacks.

"We are going to the grand supermarket downtown," Mailah announced as she finished buttoning her warm coat. "And this time, you are in charge of pushing the cart."

Grayson stood near the front door, wearing his tailored dark trousers, a heavy black wool coat that looked like it belonged on a royal commander, and a dark grey scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked so impossibly handsome and regal that Mailah felt a sudden pang of sympathy for every normal human shopper about to cross his path.

"Pushing the cart," Grayson repeated stiffly. "A four-wheeled metal cage designed for human gathering."

"Yes," Mailah smiled, handing him a folded paper list. "And remember: rule number one. Human pace. No glares at innocent strangers."

"I am a model of human civility," Grayson stated, adjusting his dark scarf with grand dignity.

Twenty minutes later, they stepped into the massive, brightly lit supermarket.

The store was packed with afternoon shoppers. Bright lights shone over long aisles of colorful fruits, cereal boxes, and frozen goods.

Grayson grabbed a shiny metal shopping cart from the rack. He didn’t just push it—he gripped the handle with both hands, keeping his back perfectly straight and his chin held high, steering the cart through the narrow aisles like a general navigating an armored chariot through a crowded marketplace.

Mailah walked slowly beside him, her hand tucked safely inside his deep coat pocket to keep her warm.

"Okay," Mailah said, checking her list. "First item: apples."

They walked over to the produce section. Grayson stopped the cart with absolute precision, exactly two feet away from the apple display, ensuring he did not block the walkway.

He stepped up to the wooden crate of red apples. He picked up a single apple, holding it up to the bright ceiling lights, turning it slowly to inspect every inch of the skin.

"What are you doing?" Mailah asked, amused.

"I am inspecting the fruit," Grayson replied solemnly. "This specimen possesses a small bruise. It is rejected."

He set it down and picked up another. He spent three full minutes inspecting five different apples with the intense focus of an expert evaluating priceless diamonds.

"Grayson, it’s just an apple!" Mailah giggled, tugging on his sleeve. "They all taste the same!"

"Quality control is the foundation of a prosperous home," Grayson declared firmly, placing four flawless, perfectly round red apples into a clear plastic bag.

They moved down to the snack aisle. Mailah was busy looking at different brands of potato chips when a voice called out behind them.

"Mailah? Is that you?"

Mailah turned around. Standing a few feet away was a tall, friendly man in a sharp business suit, holding a basket of coffee beans. He had a bright, pleasant smile.

"Julian!" Mailah blinked in surprise, her face lighting up with friendly recognition. "Oh my gosh, hi! I haven’t seen you since that winter design conference!"

"I know! It’s been years!" Julian smiled warmly, stepping closer to her. "You look great! How have you been?"

Before Mailah could answer, the air in the snack aisle suddenly grew noticeable colder.

Grayson, who had been inspecting a box of crackers three feet away, moved. He didn’t use teleportation—he simply took two long, swift, silent strides, placing his broad, towering frame directly beside Mailah.

He did not look at Julian immediately. Instead, Grayson slowly wrapped one long, heavy arm around Mailah’s waist, pulling her firmly against his hip. He draped his heavy black wool coat over her side like a dark shield, locking her securely against his body.

Then, Grayson turned his head and looked down at Julian.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly. His expression was cold, majestic, and so intensely possessive it was almost frightening. Grayson stood at his full height, his broad shoulders blocking half the aisle, radiating an aura of dark power that made the bright fluorescent lights overhead flicker once.

Julian’s friendly smile instantly faltered. He took a small step back, blinking up at the imposing, impossibly handsome man holding Mailah like a prized treasure.

"A-ah," Julian stuttered, clearing his throat nervously. "And... who is this?"

Mailah felt the deep, possessive rumble in Grayson’s chest before he even spoke. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to refrain from bursting out laughing right there.

"I am Grayson," Grayson introduced himself. His deep, smooth voice echoed down the quiet aisle, filled with cold, undisputed authority. "I am Mailah’s husband."

The word husband was spoken with such heavy, sharp emphasis that it sounded like a royal decree being carved into stone.

"Oh!" Julian swallowed hard, backing up another inch. "Husband! Wow, I didn’t know you got married, Mailah! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Julian," Mailah said sweetly, peeking out from under Grayson’s heavy arm. "He’s... very protective."

"I can see that," Julian said quickly, taking another step backward toward the end of the aisle. "Well, it was great seeing you, Mailah! Have a good day!"

Julian practically turned and jogged away toward the checkout counters.

As soon as the man vanished, Mailah turned in Grayson’s grip and looked up at his sharp, handsome face. Grayson was still glaring down the empty aisle, his jaw tight, his dark eyes burning with petty, dramatic jealousy.

"Grayson!" Mailah wheezed, poking his ribs playfully. "You scared him away! He was just an old work colleague!"

Grayson slowly looked down at her. He adjusted his dark scarf with supreme, unbothered arrogance.

"His presence was unnecessary," Grayson stated flatly. "He was standing within two feet of your space. Furthermore, his suit was poorly tailored."

"You are so ridiculously jealous! Again!" Mailah laughed, leaning her head against his broad chest. "You literally used your demon lord glare on a guy buying coffee beans!"

"I did not use magic," Grayson argued haughtily, pushing the cart forward with grand dignity. "I simply exerted my natural presence. If human males are easily frightened by superior posture, that is not my fault"

Mailah shook her head, her smile so wide her cheeks hurt. "You are incredible, Grayson. Truly incredible."

Grayson reached into the cart, picked up three massive bags of Mailah’s favorite chocolate candies, and tossed them into the basket without checking the price.

"Why are we buying three bags?" Mailah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because," Grayson muttered softly, looking away with a faint blush on his cheekbones, "you like them. And I wish for my probation score to remain high."

Mailah’s heart melted into a puddle. She reached up, pinching his sharp cheek gently. "Ten out of ten for the chocolate, demon prince."

By eight o’clock in the evening, the grand estate was quiet again.

The heavy rain outside had settled into a steady, rhythmic pattern, drumming softly against the glass windows of the estate’s main living room. A warm, crackling fire burned in the wide stone fireplace, casting rich orange and golden shadows across the polished wooden floor.

Mailah sat in the middle of the large leather sofa, wrapped in a soft white blanket. Her leg was resting comfortably on a plush ottoman.

Grayson had removed his heavy black coat and scarf. He was wearing a simple, dark charcoal long-sleeved shirt that fit tightly over his broad chest and strong arms. He sat on the soft rug right beside her sofa, his long legs folded, stirring a cup of hot chamomile tea he had prepared for her.

He handed her the cup with his usual formal care. "The temperature is optimal for consumption."

"Thank you, Grayson," Mailah murmured, taking a slow sip.

She set the cup down on the side table. The cheerful, mischievous mood of the afternoon slowed down, giving way to a quiet, intimate stillness.

Mailah looked down at Grayson’s sharp profile. The golden firelight traced the line of his jaw and highlighted the deep, quiet shadow in his dark eyes. Even though he had spent the entire day obeying her playful commands, wearing ridiculous aprons, and pushing shopping carts, Mailah could still see the lingering weight of guilt resting heavily on his shoulders.

She reached out from under her blanket, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Grayson," Mailah called out softly.

Grayson turned his head to look up at her. "Yes, Mailah?"

Mailah leaned forward slightly, her gaze tender and serious. "You still haven’t told me everything. Why did you really leave four weeks ago?"

Grayson stilled. His dark eyes flicked down toward the fire, the orange flames reflecting in his pupils.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackle of the burning wood and the gentle patter of rain outside.

Grayson slowly raised his hand, placing his large, warm palm over hers where it rested on his shoulder. He turned around so he was kneeling beside her sofa, looking up into her face with total, painful honesty.